to seek
Durade.

"He has a bad gang," she added. "They might kill you. And do you--you
think I'd--ever be--able to live longer without you?"

Whereupon Neale forgot all about Durade and vengeance, and everything
but the nearness and sweetness of this girl.

"When shall we get married?" he asked, presently.

This simple question caused Allie to avert her face, and just at that
moment there came a knock on the door. Allie made a startled movement.

"Come in," called Neale.

It was his chief who entered. General Lodge's face wore the smile that
softened it. Then it showed surprise.

"Neale, you're transfigured!"

Neale's laugh rang out. "Behold cause--even for that," he replied,
indicating the blushing Allie.

"Son, I didn't have to play my trump card to fetch you back to work,"
said the general.

"If you only had!" exclaimed Neale.

Allie got up, shyly and with difficulty disengaged her hand from
Neale's.

"You--you must want to talk," she said, and then she fled.

"A wonderful girl, Neale. We're all in love with her," declared the
chief. "She dropped down on us one night--asked for protection and you.
She does not talk much. All we know is that she is the girl you saved
back in the hills and has been kept a prisoner. Here she hides, by day
and night. She will not talk. But we know she fears some one."

"Yes, indeed she does," replied Neale, seriously. And then briefly he
told General Lodge Allie's story as related by her.

"Well!" ejaculated the chief. "If that doesn't beat me!... What are you
going to do?"

"I'll keep her close. Surely she will be safe here--hidden--with the
soldiers about."

"Of course. But you can never tell what's going to happen. If she could
be gotten to Omaha--now--"

"No--no," replied Neale, almost violently. He could not bear the thought
of parting with Allie, now just when he had found her. Then the chief's
suggestion had reminded Neale of the possibility of Allie's father
materializing. And the idea was attended by a vague dread.

"I appreciate how you feel. Don't worry about it, Neale."

"What's this snag the engineers are up against?" queried Neale, abruptly
changing the subject.

"We're stuck. It's an engineering problem that I hope--and expect you to
solve."

"Who ran this survey in the first place?"

"It's Baxter's work--with the men he had under him then," replied the
chief. "Somebody blundered. His later surveys make over one hundred feet
grade to the mi